


Not a Father

by ohmytheon



Series: Royai kid [6]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Gen, Light Angst, Parental Roy, Post-Canon, Post-Promised Day, Royai kid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 07:23:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10531677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmytheon/pseuds/ohmytheon
Summary: "Bring Your Kid to Work Day" sounds like a fun idea - except when you can't acknowledge that your adjutant's kid is your son.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Someone requested Royai + Aidan, my OC Royai kid, except I think they were hoping for something happy and I...gave them this instead. Oops. I’d been thinking about this one for a while and it was too good of an opportunity to pass it up. Would the Amestrian government do something like this? Eh, probably not, but I always enjoyed this day as a kid. And I like to make Roy suffer.

Roy was not looking forward to this day. It had loomed in the back of his mind for the past month, taunting him, pricking at him. He’d done his best to ignore it, a talent of his he’d thought, but no matter what he did, this day sat there, waiting for him. His eyes were drawn to the date every time he so much as glanced at a calendar and he would viciously tear his gaze away and focus on something else. His ears caught people talking about it in the hallway and he would burn silently, his lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes focused straight ahead.

If he didn’t talk about it, if he didn’t acknowledge it in any way, maybe it would cease to exist.

It was a stupid hope.

When the day finally came, Roy laid in bed and stared at his ceiling, wondering if he could get away with calling in sick. No one would say anything, but they would all know, especially Riza, and the idea of them pitying him was disgruntling enough to propel him out of bed an hour before his alarm went off. He took a steaming hot shower to distract himself, slowly dressed, and then ate breakfast as he read the newspaper. None of it worked, of course.

It was a beautiful day out, so he walked to work. He didn’t have the car and had told Riza not to bother picking him up today in case she needed it. Havoc had offered, but Roy had turned him down as well. He wanted time to himself before the inevitable. He tried to clear his mind, thinking of nothing by alchemy equations, so that by the time he reached work, it was a surprise. Having gotten up so early, he was one of the first people in for first shift, but that suited him just fine. He holed himself up in his office and got started on paperwork.

No, he wasn’t hiding. General Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, did not hide like a petulant child in his office.

But he couldn’t hide the way his shoulders tensed when he began to hear voices drift into the exterior office. Fuery and Breda had arrived first. Roy eased himself back into his chair, focus back on the paperwork. Them, he could handle. He couldn’t hear exactly what they were talking about, only enough to know that they weren’t talking about what today was. That was good. But he knew that he wouldn’t be able to avoid it for long. Sooner or later, the source of his stress was going to come up and he’d be in the pit.

Riza had offered to ease his pain - it wouldn’t upset her - but Roy had been adamantly against it. He would not deny her this opportunity. He wouldn’t deny _him_ anything if he could help it. But it would hurt and not just Roy himself. She had considered that it might not be a good idea, but the moment word had gotten out about today, there was no stopping it.

Today was bring your child to work day and Roy thought dying might be less painful.

What was once a day that brought Hughes all sorts of giddy joy was now a source of grief for Roy. He’d thought it stupid upon first hearing it. Bring your child to work day. They worked in the military, in the government. What place did kids have here? They’d only get in the way. Now, it caused a dull ache in Roy’s chest that was so heavy that he struggled to concentrate. Kids were getting in the way. All of them. He wanted them gone - he wanted them to stay - he wanted…

He just wanted to hug his damn son and show off to everyone how proud he was to be a father.

The minute he heard a child’s exciting voice in the exterior office, Roy visibly flinched. It was Havoc’s son, Bran, an excitable boy a year older than Roy’s. He couldn’t tell what Bran said, but it was enough to make Havoc guffaw. Probably ruffle his curly brown hair, which he’d inherited from Catalani. Well, that wasn’t her name anymore now that she was married to Havoc, but the day Roy called her by her first name was the day she stopped harping on him about everything.

Roy sat still in his seat, waiting for the inevitable, knowing it would come, telling himself that he could handle it and it wouldn’t hurt, when finally he heard Riza greeting everyone. She was the last to arrive, unusual considering she was almost always the first, but she was still on time. Roy closed his eyes, waiting, waiting, but no other voices came. Only Riza’s, the team’s, and Bran’s. Maybe she’d changed her mind. Maybe he hadn’t come.

It hadn’t been a good idea. It would only serve to torture the poor kid. He was so young, only three, and while he was already quicker than most kids his age, it wouldn’t make things any easier. The fact that he knew Roy was his father and he couldn’t say a thing about it…

Roy buried his face in his hands. How much longer could any of them handle this?

It wasn’t long before Roy realized that he would have to leave his interior office. There was work that needed to be done outside of the small festivities of the day. Touring HQ, showing kids off, a special lunch in the mess hall. It would be fine. It was only Bran. He adored the boy, who saw him as something of an uncle, the way that Roy’s boy viewed Havoc. Taking a breath, Roy stood up from his desk and walked to the door. It was fine. He put on an air, a friendly one that Bran would recognize, and walked out of his office.

His heart stopped at the sight of a dark-haired, little boy sitting in a rolling chair next to Riza.

Roy tried to catch his breath the moment his son’s eyes turned to him. Eyes so much like his own, too much like his own. The look fell away from Roy’s face immediately, but it wasn’t as unintentional as he would’ve liked. Aidan caught on though and looked away quickly, focusing on a stuffed tiger in his lap, and his legs stilled, his little feet dangling above the ground. Roy honestly didn’t think his heart would be able to start again, not with the way it felt like it was lodged in his throat.

Riza noticed him first. She noticed every change in Aidan’s demeanor, so attuned to her child in a way that Roy sometimes felt jealous of. “Sir,” she greeted, every bit of professional, her tone and expression not even hinting at the fact that the child next to her was a product of their insubordination.

 _Don’t think about him like that,_ a voice in Roy’s mind scolded, but the analytical side of Roy always won in these moments. It hurt less to turn off his emotions, at least in the moment. Later, it would all come back to him like a flood and he would be overwhelmed with guilt, his old familiar friend.

“We have a few things that need to be taken care of before anyone can think about fun,” Roy announced, his voice sounding as detached as he felt. He wasn’t here. He was somewhere else, his mind separated from his body, and he was adrift. He didn’t mean to go into autopilot, but he did. “Breda, do you have the reports from yesterday?”

Breda was quick to jump up and hand him a folder. “Yes, sir, finished proof-reading them this morning.”

Roy nodded his head and said nothing. His throat was too tight. This shouldn’t have been difficult – he’d faced the Fuhrer acknowledging himself as a Homunculus with more grit – but it was. He never looked back at Aidan. To be honest, he was too scared. He was terrified of seeing tears in his son’s eyes, of his bottom lip quivering, of anything to remotely suggest that he was upset. Mostly though, he was afraid that he would see nothing - that Aidan would be look as blank as Roy was trying to be. The kid was too good at hiding already.

_Say something, acknowledge him, smile at him, hug him, anything, anything–_

He turned on his heels and walked back into his office. The team would know what to do without him.

The moment the door shut, Roy had to fight everything in him not to throw the folder across the room. They would hear him, but even worse, Aidan would hear him. He couldn’t stand the idea of Aidan flinching because of him. Hell, he hadn’t even said hello to Bran. What kind of bastard was he?

Roy tried to steady his breathing, holding the folder up as he placed his wrist over his eyes, blocking his view of everything. The first few seconds of not being able to see always startled him, reminding him of those horrible few weeks when he’d woken up blind after Truth had taken his vision, but it tricked him into focusing elsewhere. His ears latched onto his ragged breathing as he tried to center himself; he could feel his heart thumping in his chest, feel the rough dry paper of the folder in his fingertips, smell the brownies that he knew Fuery had brought for the kids.

Things were fine. Everything was fine.

He dropped his hand to his side and opened up his eyes, staring blankly at his desk. It was missing something, wasn’t it? Other Generals with kids would have their children propped up at their side, playing in their chairs, drawing and scribbling on looseleaf paper at their desks. They would stride around HQ today, a proud gleam in their eyes, hands on their children’s shoulders as they said, _“This is my daughter,”_ or _“This is my son.”_ Their offices wouldn’t be devoid of happiness or youth. The future of Amestris. _“I want to be a soldier just like my papa!”_

If he thought about this any longer, he was going to scream.

Collapsing in his chair, Roy flipped through the reports, but his heart wasn’t in it. He’d honestly thought that he could handle today like he did other problems. Ignore it for a while and then bulldoze through it, maybe use a little subterfuge to hide. How ridiculous. He could almost laugh at himself now. Part of him wanted to ring up Madam Christmas, tell her that he couldn’t take it, that he wasn’t strong enough, but he already knew what she would say.

_“You brought this on yourself. Now you need to fix it. Crying over the phone isn’t going to do you any good.”_

She would comfort him later, in her own way, as he was still her son after all these years, but Christmas wasn’t the coddling type and it wasn’t what he needed. She knew when to comfort and when to give him a boot up his ass. There was nothing that she could say – that anyone could say – that would make him feel better. He and Riza had known that it was going to be taxing on them to do this and that some days it would be extraordinarily painful. He’d said it was worth and it was his. He was almost there. He could taste the Fuhrer candidacy, this excruciating thing between them serving as extra fuel to his ambition.

But it hurt and it hurt an innocent child. What was the price of an entire country over his own son? Aidan had done nothing wrong and they were making him suffer for their mistakes. Even worse, he never complained about it. He rarely ever asked questions. When he did cry about things, it was never for long. He was so much like Riza that it sometimes physically pained Roy to think about it. What had they done to deserve a child like him?

Roy stayed in his office all the way until lunch. As if the gods had seen that he was being punished enough, they let today be a calm down, so that he could afford to procrastinate. He was reviewing some reports about the State Alchemist Program when the door opened and Riza stepped inside. His breath seized for a second, but she was alone, no little one trailing behind her. Relief and disappointment battled inside of him.

“He’s with Havoc and Bran,” Riza said, knowing exactly what Roy was thinking.

Roy didn’t even bother denying it. “How’s he doing?”

“Better than Bran,” Riza told him, a faint smile on her face. “Better equipped to handle monotony, I think.”

Nodding his head, Roy leaned back in his chair. It was more than he could hope for. Aidan had been a quiet boy since birth. He was shy and kept to himself or Riza. Even when Roy was around, he could tell that Aidan preferred his mother. It made perfect sense. Bran was the rowdier of the two, filled with energy much like Havoc, but being at their parents’ workplace, Aidan probably stuck with Riza throughout most of the day.

“We’re going down for lunch. Did you…want me to bring you something?”

To be honest, Roy didn’t feel hungry. He hadn’t had much of an appetite when he’d forced himself to eat breakfast this morning. Even if his stomach growled now, he didn’t know if he could hold food down comfortably. Still, he knew that he had to eat something, so he nodded his head. He couldn’t go with them. As much as he wanted to, the idea of being surrounded by parents with their kids made him feel sick. He wanted that. He wanted to let Aidan sit in his lap while they ate fruit cups or quiche or whatever food he chose. He wanted to be there for his son to turn to when another kid came up to him and he became shy and didn’t want to talk. He wanted to smile and laugh as Aidan and Bran ran around the room together.

“He’s not… He’s not mad at me, is he?”

Riza sighed. “No, we talked about it this morning. He told me it was okay and he seems like he’s having fun, but…” She bit her lip. He could tell that she didn’t want to tell him something, but she didn’t like keeping things from him either, especially about their son. She didn’t want to upset him either.

“It’s okay,” Roy said tonelessly, letting her know to continue.

“Sometimes I catch him looking at your office door or watching Havoc and Bran goofing around and I know he’s thinking, but he doesn’t want to talk about it right now.”

Roy could understand that. There were plenty of times when Roy would watch Havoc play with his son and he would feel a spark of jealousy. And he knew what he was like when he felt even remotely jealous. He was irritable, temperamental, and no good to anyone. It wasn’t Havoc’s fault though. He was a great father and a good friend. He had even stepped up in moments where Roy could not, all without having been asked.

 _“What kind of uncle would I be if I didn’t look out for the kiddo?”_ Havoc would laugh, brushing it off.

 _What kind of father am I that I can’t always be there to do that?_ Roy asked himself.

“You should come out for some of the events,” Riza suggested gently.

Roy shook his head. “I can’t.”

“If you’re worried about how it might look–”

“I _can’t_ ,” Roy stressed. He ran his fingers through his hair. “What good would it be for either of us? Aidan will see fathers playing with their kids and I’ll be off to the side, cold, distant, untouchable.” He shook his head again. “I can’t do that.”

Riza looked at him carefully. He wasn’t hiding how he felt nearly as well as he normally did. He was tired, beaten down, and just plain didn’t want to. In a way, he was acting out. He hated being so vulnerable like this, but it was Riza. She had seen him at his best and his worse and everything in between. There was no hiding between them anymore. It was honestly a relief that he could show weakness in front of her when he could allow no one else to see it, not even his son. He had to be strong for everyone else, but he didn’t have to lie to her.

“Do you want me to take him home?” she finally asked.

“No,” Roy replied emphatically. “I want him to have fun. You said that he was excited to come to work with you. As long as he’s enjoying himself, that’s all I care about.”

After nodding her head, Riza smiled. “I’ll let him pick out your food. He’ll have fun with that. It’ll make him feel important.”

That sounded like a good idea. It would give him some control over the situation, some little connection to Roy, no matter how small it was. Details like that were good. Roy wasn’t sure how much they would matter in the end, but right now, anything mattered to him. He fought the urge to stand up, pull her against his chest, and wrap his arms around her. He wanted to press his face into the crook of her neck and breathe her in. But if they broke the space between them, tearing himself away from her would only make things worse.

“It won’t be long,” Roy told her, his eyes turning towards the window behind him. He looked out at the city, his city, Central, the place that had become his home after all the places he’d been. He’d fought his way to get here and he wasn’t about to let it go. He didn’t let anything go though. He was stubborn like that. “Soon, Riza, I promise.” Even saying her name now was a thrill, especially at HQ, almost too much, but he had to let her know how much this meant to him. “Soon.”

It wasn’t just about him anymore. It was about so much more. It was about her. It was about all the people whose lives he’d taken and whose lives he’d sworn to protect. It was about their son, a dark-haired boy with dark eyes and a lopsided smile that could stutter Roy’s heart. He used to mock Hughes and look at him now. The day would be over soon enough, but that wouldn’t lessen the pain or make things stop. It never did. Life was difficult that way and so apparently was fatherhood.


End file.
